


Out of the Darkness

by thisbluespirit



Category: Dracula (TV 1968)
Genre: 5 Times, Blood, Community: genprompt_bingo, F/F, F/M, Post-Canon, Vampires, but Jonathan dies the most, various deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: Five possible futures for Mina, post-canon.





	Out of the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Also written for genprompt_bingo Round 14, for the square "push and pull."
> 
> (This follows on from the 1968 TV adaptation, which leaves Dracula defeated, but Mina in possession of his ring.)

**i. Resurrection**

Mina found the crypt open. It didn’t seem strange to her that it should be, just as it had not felt wrong to be drawn here at this time of night. She had risen from her bed, quite calmly, certain of her purpose, and dressed herself enough at least to appear outwardly respectable and then she had set off to walk to the graveyard at the top of the cliff. Now that she was here, she walked over to the coffin and pried off the lid. It should have been nailed down, but that omission did not seem odd, either. Mina pushed further at the lid, sending it falling onto the floor – and now she could see Lucy, lying there so very still with a wooden stake through her heart.

That was a ghoulish sight indeed, but Lucy was otherwise as Mina remembered her. It was the first time that something of the peculiarity of her position stole its way through into the forefront of Mina’s mind and she hesitated, but her gaze strayed to that incongruous, awful stake and she could not bear it to remain there.

Mina reached in and grasped the stake with both hands, pulling it out, falling back and gasping with the effort. Perhaps it was too late, perhaps there was nothing left of the Lucy who had come to her only the other evening – but then again, _something_ had drawn Mina here. 

Mina stared down at her dead friend, willing her to move, but she did not. Something more must be needed. Again Mina seemed to know what to do: she pulled a too-large onyx ring from her finger and curled her fingers around it. She closed her eyes and found suddenly that the prayer she had intended was beyond her. She replaced the ring and pulled off her hat, casting it onto the stone floor of the crypt as she took the pin that had held it in place and stabbed it into her finger. As a bead of blood formed, she put her hand into the coffin and her bloodied fingers to Lucy’s lips.

Mina wanted to stay – she never wanted to leave Lucy again – but the same silent yet unanswerable urge that had brought her here now drove her home again.

 

She slept late and was restless all day, finding it an effort to pretend that she cared about any of her usual daily concerns. She trudged over to the asylum and listened without emotion when Dr Seward told her that he saw no reason Jonathan should not leave by the end of the week. Mina merely nodded and thanked him, and if she was distant and unlike herself, the doctor did not notice, for he was hardly there himself; worn out, still grieving and reluctant to discuss the terrible events that had stolen Lucy from both of them.

At that thought, Mina felt an awful desire to laugh: he was grieving for _Lucy_. 

 

Late that night, Mina returned to the crypt and sat there, waiting in darkness, disregarding the dust, cobwebs and dirt about her, and barely noticing the musty air and the damp until finally she heard a quiet rustling sound and someone put a hand to her face.

Mina did not yet open her eyes, but she smiled. “Lucy.”

“Yes,” said Lucy, and Mina turned her head, blinking as she saw her through the gloom. She was moving, but slow, sill weak and she leant against her friend, her fingers straying to Mina’s high collar. She brushed her head against Mina’s shoulder. “I’m hungry,” she said, with a shudder. “So hungry. Mina.”

Mina nodded. It all seemed so perfectly right and normal again. She let the dark ring drop from her hand and gave a short, tremulous laugh as she unbuttoned her blouse and let her shawl slip from her shoulders. She leant back against the wall, lowering herself so that Lucy could reach her more easily and held her as she drank.

The balance of power was shifting; Mina could feel it. She began to sag back against the wall of the crypt while Lucy’s hold on her tightened. There was pain, but it was overwritten by the same thrill as before, when Lucy had appeared to her in the graveyard. Mina let her eyelids close, giving in to the pleasure. And this time, she thought muzzily, there would be no end to it. 

“Mina,” Lucy said into her ear, “we shall have such good times – we shall go far away from here and do anything we please.”

Mina could not speak. She sank weakly into Lucy’s hold, everything growing steadily more indistinct. It felt so good – the pain of the bite had been swamped by the delight of Lucy’s touch, and now the sorrow and weariness of life were finally easing away just as surely as her heartbeat was slowing. She wasn’t even certain she was still breathing. But she clutched at Lucy, struggling with one last question: “Jonathan,” she said. “John.” But there she stopped, unsure what it was she had wanted to ask. It did not seem to matter any more.

Lucy stroked Mina’s hair and kissed her cheek and her neck as she paused to consider. “No,” she said at last, although there was a note of regret in her voice. “I fear the professor would be certain to notice. But I don’t think we shall need them any more.”

Mina wanted to laugh, but she had no strength left, hardly aware of anything beyond Lucy’s arms around her. It was as blissful as Lucy had promised, and she sighed. They didn’t need anyone else. “Where shall we go?” she tried to say, but the words would not come out.

On the floor, the ring glinted as Lucy picked it up while Mina slumped to the stones in a soft, rustling heap of petticoats and skirts. Lucy gave a giggle. “Why, I do believe there is a castle in Transylvania that has lost its owner and has friends waiting for us to play with them…”

 

**ii. on the rocks**

“Good evening, John,” said Mina, pausing in the act of folding linen as Dr Seward entered. She let the material fall out of her hold and turned her attention to him.

He forced a smile and offered her his hand, but he avoided meeting her gaze and there was little pressure in his grip before he released her. He was still listless and uncomfortable following their recent experiences with the Count, she knew, but he seemed even more so tonight. She had to bite back a small smile, guessing what his news must be.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, as if she was still the same old Mina, still human, still trying to do good and care about the people around her, while within she stifled devilish glee. “It’s not the professor, is it?”

John actually started at her words. “I’m afraid so. His ship – this storm drove it back onto the rocks.”

“Onto the rocks,” she said. “Oh, dear. Like poor Jonathan.” (Poor, dear Jonathan; but he would never have stopped trying to steal the ring and to resurrect his master and that wasn’t her plan at all. She had been simply forced to do something about him.)

John stared at her, but still barely seeing her. “Yes,” he said, distracted by his own sorrow, and then taking in her words. “Yes. I suppose so. Mrs Harker, I cannot apologise enough – I have no idea how he managed to get out again, let alone all the way up to the cliff top.”

Mina glanced down to hide her smile. “Oh, I don’t blame _you_ , John.” 

“The storm seemed to blow up out of nowhere. Poor Van Helsing,” said John, sitting down and then standing up again in his distraction. “But what could anyone do about such an act of nature?”

“Quite,” said Mina, although she knew very well there had been nothing natural about it. “And what does it matter now to me – or to you?”

Dr Seward turned, frowning. “Eh? Mrs Harker –”

She held up a hand. “Oh, you must know. You and I and Lucy, joined together by blood. And the Count, of course. The professor never did truly understand.” She reached him, catching hold of his jacket, smoothing down the lapels with her fingers. Cold fingers, but what did that matter, either? “Dear John. Let me free you, too.”

“Mrs Harker,” he said again, but there was not much protest left in him.

Mina smiled and held his gaze, shifting her hold on him and touching his face. He leant in towards her instinctively. “You and I and Lucy; you see it now. Your blood in her veins, mine in hers – let us now complete the circle.”

He had already given in; he didn’t even try to pull away or protest now. She was the one with the power, and in any case, she was right. Besides, she had made his life too much of a misery for him to want to continue, after all these further deaths.

“Good,” she said softly, and pulled him in closer, tracing a line down from his cheek to his neck, hearing him sigh. She laughed gently and loosened his collar, and guided him, unresisting, to the sofa, pulling him down beside her – and sank her teeth in.

A few more visits like this, and they would both be free of this too-dreary life.

 

**iii. Davy Jones’s Locker**

Mina should have told the others about the ring, but she didn’t. She wasn’t sure if she clung to it, or it clung to her, giving her dreams of power and freedom. It scared her, but sometimes the professor scared her more. She could perhaps have tried to ask John, but he was as yet still withdrawn and she didn’t like to intrude on his grief, even if she shared it. It had to be done, however: whatever the ring did to her, it disturbed poor Jonathan even more. He was restless in his sleep, and dreamed of the ring. Sometimes she caught him searching for it, even though he denied it.

She had now thought of a way to deal with it. She wasn’t sure if the professor would have approved, but she chartered a small boat and asked to be taken out about half a mile off-shore before being brought back again. The fisherman who agreed to do it clearly thought she must have escaped from the asylum herself, but he humoured her for the sake of the fee. It was drizzling and grey when they set off, and the damp hung about her till it soaked her, but the weather didn’t matter. 

Once they’d reached the farthest point of their brief voyage, she took the onyx ring and cast it into the North Sea, and then her hand went to the cross she wore on a chain around her neck and she closed her eyes, feeling a shadow gone from her.

It should be safely lost now. Holy water had salt in, the Professor said, and salt drove away evil in folklore. Well, there was surely enough salt water here to drown this evil too.

 

“We’re free,” she told Jonathan when she returned, breathless and half-chilled from the damp. It was only breakfast time, it seemed. She was back in time for kippers.

Jonathan glanced up, in the act of eating. “Were we not already?”

“I suppose it does sound odd,” said Mina, passing on to go to her room and change into dry clothes. “But I believe that now things will be better.”

She wished, as she removed her hat and hurried up the stairs, that she could have solved their other problems so easily: if she could only cure Mrs Weston, and bring Lucy back to life again (not undeath), and make John smile – if she could have Jonathan truly as he was, not scarred by such terrible experiences.

This victory, however, would have to do. 

 

It was not enough, it turned out: Jonathan vanished in the night. Mina woke from the most peaceful sleep she had had in a very long while to find herself alone, and when she rose, she discovered that Jonathan was nowhere to be found. She would have assumed he had merely gone for an early morning walk, but Mrs Perkins had not seen him either, which meant that he must have left before she had risen, and that was inexplicable.

Mina searched the house more thoroughly, aided by the servants, and sent the coachman out into the town and an errand boy to run to the Asylum to enquire if Dr Seward had seen him.

She waited at home at first, but then, on instinct, walked out herself, down to the sea shore. The longer Jonathan was absent, the more she felt terribly certain that he had gone after that dreadful ring, and she felt uncomfortably like a murderess.

She left the tiny, shingled beach and climbed up the steps to the church on top of the East Cliff, as if a better view might help. It did not. Instead, she wandered back to the Weston crypt and waited by Lucy’s grave, standing for a while, and then kneeling there, by the dead flowers. (She must change them, she thought, irrelevantly. They had all been through a terrible ordeal, but it was no excuse to neglect Lucy’s memory.)

“Mrs Harker,” said Dr Seward. “Mina?”

She rose, dusting down her dark skirts, still in mourning for her friend and her friend’s mother. “Have you news of Jonathan?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said, and held out a hand to her. “When we arrived at the Weston’s house, the staff were concerned about you. Bradley seemed to think one of the fishermen had seen him, and the professor went with him to find out more. I came in search of you – to let you know, and to be certain nothing had happened to you.”

Mina gave a small smile. “Thank you.”

 

When they descended the steps, they found Van Helsing waiting at the bottom with the Westons’ coachman, and the Professor confirmed her fears: Jonathan had gone into the sea last night, and his body had not yet been found.

“I threw the ring into the sea,” confessed Mina. “It belonged to the Count, but it passed to me. I didn’t know what else to do with it. And now it seems –” She faltered, and Dr Seward put a light, comforting hand to her arm. “Have I killed him?”

Van Helsing shook his head. “I wish you had come to me, Mrs Harker, but it was not a bad solution. And how could anyone have known that your unfortunate husband would resort to such a desperate course to retrieve it?”

“I knew he wanted it,” said Mina, burying her face in her hands. “I had thought casting it into the sea would save him from it, not drive him to this! Poor Jonathan.”

 

The only comfort she had was this: when, two days later, the body was washed ashore, it was very clearly both human and dead. It was, at least, as even the professor said when he viewed the remains, now finally over.

 

**iv. hunters**

Jonathan had seemed quite well now, weeks after the affair with Dracula and that final, dreadful night in the graveyard. Mina truly believed he was, until she woke one night to find him in her room, stroking her hair. He had been sleeping alone while he healed from his terrible experiences and while she would otherwise have been delighted to find him here, as she looked up into his alien smile, illuminated by moonlight shining through a crack in the corner, she knew his actions boded no good. She also saw, catching the light, Dracula’s ring on his finger and she had to stifle a gasp of dismay.

“Mina,” he said into her ear. “You want this, too, don’t you?”

Mina might still recognise the tug of temptation within, but she most emphatically did _not_. She scrambled out of bed, taking half the bedclothes with her, dropping them on the floor as she hastened to get to the door, calling out to Mrs Perkins and any others of the servants who might be listening.

She made it out into the hallway, closely followed by Jonathan, who grasped her shoulders from behind. She closed her eyes, as he said, “Why run? You know how this feels – how can you not want it?”

Mina did remember how it felt, and she swallowed as she forced that memory to the back of her mind. (She remembered the dizzying sweetness of Lucy’s caresses by the crypt; such joy as she had never felt before, nor would again. All is desire, Lucy had said, and it had thrilled her then.) She tugged herself away, however. That had been Lucy, and Lucy was gone. “No, Jonathan! No.”

Still nobody in the house seemed to have appeared and Mina wondered in sudden horror what had become of them all. What might Jonathan have done?

She took a breath and backed away down the hall, step by step, her gaze fixed on Jonathan, who followed. He laughed at her, but then suddenly looked beyond her in surprise, moments before the door opened, and Mina backed into somebody else.

“Mrs Harker,” said Dr Seward, steadying her. “Whatever is –” His mouth must have then caught up with his brain, for he pulled her further away, clutching at her, despite her shocking state of undress. “Good God!” he said, and then gave a small yelp as Jonathan snarled at him. 

Mina turned and dragged him through the door, which they pulled shut behind them, Dr Seward hanging onto the handle, as Jonathan tugged at it from the other side.

“I was passing,” he said breathlessly. “I saw the light – the door open – one of the maids ran out. I thought Mr Harker had perhaps relapsed. Oh – heavens!” he said in a panic as Jonathan renewed his assault on the door with a worrying amount of success.

It was one way of putting it, Mina thought, as she grabbed his arm, and they ran down the drive to where his carriage and driver were waiting. He twisted around to look back, and breathed out; she was near enough to feel it and share in his relief.

“He hasn’t followed,” he said. “Thank God. Come on, Mrs Harker.”

Mina nodded, but she wondered again about the rest of the household. There was nothing to be done, however, so she let Dr Seward help her up into the carriage, and sat down, trembling slightly now that the chase had ceased. Then, before Dr Seward could join her, she turned her head, sensing a presence next to her.

“Hello again, Mina,” said Jonathan, sliding his arm around her, and called for the driver to move on.

Her desperate need to escape and relief at having done so now told against her: it seemed to be a hopeless case. She barely even heard Dr Seward shouting from somewhere behind them.

“I knew you wanted it, too,” said Jonathan, and pulled back her hair from her throat.

It seemed this was now inevitable, and what was the point of fighting the inevitable? Mina sighed and let herself relax against Jonathan. It was, after all, a familiar and pleasant place to be. She felt one last quiver of regret, unshed tears stinging in her eyes (a faint memory of Lucy, who would now be doubly lost to her), but she didn’t struggle. She was far too tired.

The carriage jolted over a rut in the road, startling her into regaining her senses and while they were both still off-balance, she wrenched herself away from Jonathan, landing on the floor of the carriage – next to Dr Seward’s medical bag. She rummaged through it desperately, as Jonathan tried to drag her up. She couldn’t see any of the contents in the dark, but to her surprise her hand closed around a large, thoroughly unscientific object that was exactly what she needed: a wooden cross.

Mina picked it up as Jonathan tugged her up by her hair, and thrust it into his face. He shrieked and hissed, his skin burning under it, and then with one last snarl, he threw himself out of the carriage, leaving Mina in a heap on the floor, shaking as it carried on moving.

She pulled herself up into the seat, gripping the cross, and shouted at the driver to stop, which one could say he did in a way, as the coach hit the post of somebody’s drive and swayed alarmingly before coming to a halt at a drunken angle. She feared she might be dragged on by the horse, but it must have been freed by the accident, as she heard the sound of its hooves moving rapidly away.

She was just daring to move again, when Dr Seward arrived to open the door and help her out. He gave her his coat again, as he had done on that fateful morning in the churchyard, and she stood there beside him in the road and shivered uncontrollably, still clutching the cross. 

“The driver,” she said. “What happened to him?”

Dr Seward gave her a strange look, before eventually saying, “He’s lying back there, by the Weston’s house. Who was driving it just now… I don’t know. I suppose at this point one shouldn’t be surprised at anything.”

Mina managed a nervous laugh. “Probably not. I wouldn’t have expected this to be one of your medical tools.” She pulled out the cross.

“I do listen to the Professor,” he said, giving a cough, a slight flush on his cheeks. “However little I may want to. If that’s how you got away, then I’m glad. I shall have to stop feeling such a fool for carrying it about.”

She moved in nearer and he put his arms around her. He was not steady, either, but he was alive. She could feel the warmth of him, and, when she leant against him, his heartbeat; now slightly erratic after the excitement. She took comfort from that. (Jonathan had been cold, as Lucy had been cold, as the Count had.)

“We’d better tell the Professor,” he said softly. “I need to see to that poor fellow back there as well.”

Mina looked at the damaged, driverless carriage, and then back at the Weston house. “I don’t think we can get back to the asylum tonight, not like this. Let’s carry the poor man inside and barricade ourselves in one of the rooms until morning. I’ll fetch my cross and anything else of that kind I can find. I know the professor left some things in Lucy’s room. And it isn’t too many hours until sunrise.”

Dr Seward nodded, although he cast a regretful look down the road in the direction of his asylum. “I suppose we must, although I can’t like it. I’m very sorry that this had to happen to Harker – but for the moment, I hope he doesn’t come back!”

“I hurt him quite badly, I think,” said Mina. She slipped her hand into John’s. “I’m sure we shall be all right, you and I – at least for tonight.”

 

**v. Good Company**

It had taken a tedious while until the Professor had left for Vienna and Dr Seward had stopped fussing over Jonathan’s condition, but eventually they had left the Harkers alone. Mina had waited no longer than that to give Jonathan what he wanted: the end of life and the beginning of an endless unlife.

Like so many others who wished to remain hidden, they escaped into the dark maze of London’s streets, lost amongst its teeming millions, where the foul-smelling smog rendered even day as safe as night for a good portion of the year.

The railways were a considerable help, too: one could find a victim in town, and the next week or month in Dover or Gloucester, or Peterborough. As long as she and Jonathan were careful and scattered their victims, the Professor would never be able to track them down.

“Oh, Jonathan, darling, you’re back,” Mina said, sitting in the drawing room of their ‘borrowed’ town house. She could hear his wings in the darkness even before he took shape beside her. “How was Birmingham?”

Jonathan put his arm around her waist and kissed her. “Disappointing. I lost my most promising quarry. I don’t think he can have suspected, but he seemed to have a very inconvenient interest in naves and fonts and the perpendicular style and kept disappearing into churches. I thought I had better give it up before I missed the last train before morning, but it _was_ a shame.”

“How very inconsiderate of him,” said Mina, stroking Jonathan’s cheek, before kissing him in consolation. “Still, it is his loss. I daresay we shouldn’t have cared for such a tiresome person among the elect. And at least you are back in time to help me with my current dilemma.”

“What’s that?”

“I was trying to decide about tomorrow,” she said, and smiled, dark laughter dancing in her eyes. “Who _shall_ we have for dinner?”


End file.
